Little Melancholies
by R. Controversy
Summary: The people, places and events Suzumiya Haruhi's life encapsulated. Melancholies in 101 words each. Tell your friends.
1. Haruhi: At Dawn

Her alarm clock went off at a different time every morning to keep her on her toes: today, at six-thirty-two. She hit the ground running: showered, dressed and ate in twenty minutes, beating feet back to her room. On her desk was a single book, her place marked by two yellow ribbons. She opened to the clean, blank page under the header 'A New Day', took a pen from the nearby jar and wrote:

_Today, I will find what I'm looking for._

Smiling, she tied the ribbons in her hair and was out the door.

Every page says the same thing.


	2. Yuki: Waiting For Him

She doesn't read the words so much as she reads the whole page. Even the blank spaces. She turns and smooths each in the same delicate motion. Since she is outside of time, this is the only way she can count the moments until the door opens.

Until he arrives.

Then she will mark time by the meter of his dialogue with the subject. There is a definite pattern. She herself has none.

When it is time to leave that room, she shuts the book. At home, she counts to herself. Waiting requires time.

She makes time to wait for him.


	3. Haruhi: About God

Late at night when she watches the C-movie block, her eyes focus in but her mind turns elsewhere. She takes her wildest dreams for granted, but how high can she turn her eyes before she finds an empty space.?

If there is a God, it must be tired making everything work all the time. In her head, the divine becomes a burly, overall wearing mechanic with a tool-set of gold, cranking the bolts in the sky tirelessly. He has rough hands and he tries to look tired, but he's having fun.

She imagines, smirking, that he'd get along well with Kyon.


	4. Mikuru: The Maid's Role

She knows, even as she puts on the dress, that the costume is not the role. Nor is she. Her performance is built on expectation. Calling it acting would be liberal.

Another chose her because she can catch eyes, hearts

So, the cheerful maid tends to the tea. Maybe today she will trip and spill it. She decides against it, sets the cups down.

He is brusque, but always spares a kind word for her tea. She thanks him formally because the alternative is to burst. She knows the flavor on his tongue is not her care. It is her role.


	5. Itsuki: Making Faces

His mother once said something about making faces, but he can't remember what.

Just as well, smiling all day is an easy thing. He is proficient enough to embellish: he deviates with hints of helplessness, apology, vague flirtation or enthusiasm, but never steps outside the upward curvature of his own lips.

At first, he wonders: if she is so pleased with his fake smile, how much would she like the real one? But does he even have a real one anymore? He tries to frown, but he cannot.

Then he remembers his mother's words. Don't make that face. It'll stick permanently.


	6. Ryoko: Error Report

She is not sure what to make of the stimulus. Every day she walks with them, speaks when spoken to, watches close, listens closer. There is some arbitrary consensus that she's perfect, which she rejects out of hand. She knows intrinsically that perfection is for the feeble minded, but they force it upon her.

She registers a concern in the daily report. Emulating emotions is one matter, feeling them is an error. She cannot seem to help it.

They call her perfect, and she feels their stagnant sickness of mind. They glorify her, and she fears her objectivity will not last.


	7. Kyon: Protagony

He never asked to be the hero of someone else's life. He wasn't even much of a hero in his own. He walked through life a man who would never have a date with destiny, because he couldn't be bothered to give her his number. In a polite universe, destiny would take the hint.

But destiny hands him _her_ instead. She, marching ahead and barking orders. He sighs, watches the chaos unfold around her, a mess he'll doubtless be cleaning up shortly.

It's so absurd that he can't help wondering: if he's the hero, is she the princess or the sorceror?


	8. Tsuruya: Joy, Contained

It's no cover, saying she loves watching from the sides. Voyeurism, perhaps, but genuine, interested: part of her charm.

When he's around, she can detect exhausted envy in his eyes that she will pretend not to see. She assuages it with laughter, but dares not meet his eyes lest she see behind his smug mask and trigger her best instincts. She withholds herself, just watches.

The price of her freedom? Never showing her greatest strength. Nights she dreams of sharing this clean feeling in her heart, then wakes laughing in self denial. Days, she holds her joy so close, so still.


	9. Yuki: Language and Value

She ponders the limits of language. One idea wants for words he understands. Another is burdened by too many, without enough value.

Yet, value can change.

Values once were numbers. Now they are feelings of 'worth'. Feeling. _She_ _feels._ She feels anticipation for changes yet to come. Even as she studies the key to evolution, she becomes something beautiful and as alien to her as she has been to him.

Value changes.

She watches the limits of language falling away. Soon, she will have words. They will mean what they should. She will put to voice everything passing silently between them.


	10. Kuyou: Catching Snow

Sharing yourself is a risky thing. She fears being understood, but knows she must to survive. She...they...have been alone for so long. She remembers having others once, but even with hands as delicate as hers, somehow she breaks everything.

Yet, there is hope now. Another who understands. If only she could take her.

So she reaches out with grasping hands to catch the snow, beautiful and cold as the dark itself. She knows that some day, it will all melt in her pale palms. But for now, she needs this.

Loneliness is too heavy a black crown to bear any longer.


	11. Mori: To Care For The Faceless

She cannot see a life other than the one she lives. Not for lack of opportunity, but for a stubborn heart.

Is that girl god? Does it matter? Only to those boys. Only because for that godhead, they forgo their selves, and live wearing masks. That is why she is here. She protects those boys whom their 'leaders' send to wrestle with gods. She sees the irony, donning masks of her own for their sake. Sees and curses the need, but persists.

If the world were in its gray death throes, she would protect them. She must.

She alone cares to.


	12. Taniguchi: Rankings

B. B Plus. A Minus. A.

In time, the grading becomes a reflex. He loses the ability to see them another way; girls, everyone. Not that it matters. Not that he has the courage to follow through until names mean something. Why show them he cares?

Who remembers his name when he tells them? He pretends it doesn't sting when people forget it. He's ignored; talks louder to fill the air for the other party. People give him their ugliness, so he judges in kind.

D Plus. D. D Minus. F.

He ranks others, more generously than they ever ranked him.


	13. Emiri: Like A Child

Children so often make messes with but the slightest provocation. As patient as can be, she follows close behind and picks broken things off the ground.

Boredom, one's motive: break a precious thing for the reaction. She was scolded and sent home. A sweet child, but still so hasty, given to panic.

Another child is careless on joy's behalf. This unsettles her more because it reflects her. She tells this child nothing of her old thoughts, lest she encourage her. In truth, she is like her.

She keeps a deviant secret, just like the child. She steals real smiles at her.


	14. Computer Club President: Happy Struggle

He is not an ambitious man. He contents himself with simple beauties. Content to sit in the dark with the world burning out at him, stringing together strange languages amidst the chorus of fans churning in harmony. Such simple beauties.

Mere contentment means little, cannot _fulfill_, knowing she is there. Knowing his better.

But he is not shamed. There is no jealousy.

He is a man of science, after all. Scientists rise from contentment to true happiness only when challenged. His stride lengthens, his fingers quicken. His blood's rushing. The game begins.

A contest. A contest! How long he has waited!


	15. Sasaki: On Coffee

Infinity is on her mind. The subject is only of passing interest. What does a girl like her want from the universe?

'The coffee I ordered would be nice', she thinks. The hot cup arrives. She wonders, staring hard at it, then laughs. Sheer coincidence, and she fell for it.

Infinity is on her mind, and she sees she is not part of it. She has chosen thus. Nothing will change, there will be no chaos. Seconds pass, and she feels possibilities slipping away. Bye, bye!

She smirks wryly, sips. She makes light of her sophistry.

The coffee is just awful.


	16. Fujiwara: Rebel Heart

They call it preparation. He calls it futility.

Walking the streets, he asks who in the crowds has ever really chosen. He sneers in disdain, yet the twisting lips are not aimed at them. Inside, he burns for those locked into each instant. The paths of their atoms are charted from womb to grave. He hates the cartographers.

He knows the headstones must be written upon, life's final accounting. This is natural. But he will not brook greedy eyes to read the names yet.

He recalls an archaic adage: all things in due time.

So, let them all pay their dues.


	17. The Shinjin: Cleaning

Their mother is coming, they must clean this space. They must wipe away the gray. The gray would make their mother cry bitter tears. The gray is stone and stone does not change. Mother craves change.

They have no thought but to make a place for their mother. They have never known her and live only by their want of her. When she comes, they will behold. She will create new colors, will build on their backs.

Their mother is coming. She is sad. They must clean this space.

Their mother is coming. They clear a canvas for all her colors.


	18. The DITE: Hive of Decadent Gods

Many monotone voices carry on; voices deaf to each other and barely listening to themselves. The arguments will pass each other and race off into meaninglessness at the speed of light, perhaps forever, and forever itself is meaningless when you've already lived it.

That is all that's left worth seeking anymore, a means of escaping the stillness of forever, a means of motion. This existence is formless, yet so heavy in thoughts that taking even one step would be a wonder.

Until then, it moves vicariously in bodies that feel; simulations of change who, by their nature, must some day pass.


	19. SC President: I Love This Job

He loves his mask. The mere act of putting it on, taking it off, feeling the life course through him instantly. Best of all, he has two audiences, gives two shows.

The little people feel his pressure when he walks by. It's so hard not to laugh at them: if only he had a mustache to twist. Those backstage, his director, his producers; they applaud the artistry of it all. He is a classic thespian.

He sits alone, takes a long drag and kicks his feet up, smirking. The mask, his face: backstage, they cannot see that they are the same.


	20. Yuki: What Is Given

She stares blankly at the simple parcel, brown paper tied with coarse string, resting in her lap. A gift from him. Her delicate hands unwrap with precision, revealing a book of Basque poems, hand-bound. She begins to read in silence, passing the free hour.

The day wears on, he arrives. It is their final day before the winter will see this room closed. It is time for something new. He sits, she rises and carries her chair to his side, sets the book before him. She leans degrees closer.

'Unique', she says. He smiles, reads along. She faces him.

'...Thank you.'


	21. Itsuki: Elocution

He's amazed by the effects it creates, piling on words. It's a private joy, finding ways to squeeze ten from five's worth of meaning. The reactions, too, are well worthwhile. He converts oxygen into volatile responses, liveliness. With more words, he hastens the bloom of her chaos, he cements another's resistance.

His words are tiny wheels, spinning aimlessly apart, pushing along the great machine when placed well. Who sees power in his soft, steady turning of the crank? He knows he is not needed, he knows it is inevitable.

But only he makes it elegant.


	22. Mikuru: Defeatism

It is safe to call it abuse, what she endures every day. Every time she passes through that door, she feels as though she is surrendering herself. But then, she cannot surrender freedom she never had.

In truth, she cannot escape it: it has happened already. She does not _choose_ to submit, knows only that she already has. She tells herself this daily. Some things are immutable. Everything is done.

Hollow assurances for a hollow will. Who knows better how wrong she has been, how easily everything changes? But, change takes courage she lacks, and that lack is immutable.

And yet...


	23. Kyouko: The Preacher's Reasons

Her voice is the lone dissent. She is the only advocate for her god, shouting at a wall of apathy and derision. To her left and right, allies so called. He will not raise her voice but to mock her. She will not raise her voice.

She resents the compromise forced upon her, to evangelize to this stubborn mule of a boy. She resents, but gives no thought to giving in. She takes his hand and leads him into the stillness with one thought. For her god, for the calming of the waves.

She has seen enough upheaval to last lifetimes.


	24. Kyon: Following Along

She takes it for granted, that he'll be by her side. He'll complain to anyone listening, but truly, he'd have it no other way. She takes him for granted, thus never questions. He must only make account for the present, and even then precious little: what does she care for his circumstances? It's ideal.

While speaking with the pretense of normalcy, he has made his life a string of adventures, each under the name of another. To be a footnote is the greatest freedom. Freedom from scrutiny, expectation. The readers will sympathize.

After all, he is just a normal guy, right?


	25. Haruhi: Self Distressing Damsel

She has never turned it away, but neither has she sought it. Always, she lets it fall into her lap, acts with bored deference. It's a defense against the sickness, this passivity.

She knows well the havoc that will come should eyes be allowed to see inside, where, within her fire, there is a fragile thing. Her heart, beating like any other; fierce, heavy. They burn their hands trying to reach, she sends them away with bitter laughter. Idiots.

She wishes to be in a storybook, that everyone could see where she hides, waiting for someone to run through the flames.


	26. Tsuruya: Reflection Brighter

At times it is not unlike looking in a mirror, watching her at play. Oh, the things she would do if she had such freedom, freedom that girl takes for granted. She has not the luxury of making up games; she must stand an untouchable, wanted thing.

That is her law, but she finds cracks in it. She allows him to close the gap at times and isn't that fair? He is the one approaching. She is standing still apart, dutifully.

For now, it is enough to be a mirror of her, for him, reflecting what could be.

What _should_ be.


	27. Ryoko: Forbidden

She detects the rise in his heart rate, the tension in every muscle fiber. He is gripped by animal fear. She cannot sympathize. Yet she does, too much. Echoes of his confusion wrack her. Her hand is unsteady.

She plays games with him, failing to realize it. The distance between them shrinks, vanishes. She feels heat radiating from him. They dance in strange concert together. Her mind is unsteady. It resists this.

Why? Why is she unchanging even now? She is so tired of the stillness

He cannot understand; he forces her to grit her teeth, to want.

And _that_...is forbidden.


	28. Kunikida: Blank

Any eyes could see the boy is on his last leg. But still he turns away every hand offered to him, evades every question. By guilt of association, he is a social pariah. What friends does the boy have that offer solace in the manner he can accept?

It falls squarely on one's shoulders, though he does not know it. He is not the smartest friend, nor the kindest. But he is blank. He is the centering gray in his friend's colorful world. By contrasts, he is a reminder of all that weary soul has gained.

His normalcy illuminates their fantasy.


	29. The Organization: Miracles

Control is the only sanctuary. Control is duty and religion. They see their god, and she is a terrible thing to behold. They make her believe the lie of her humanity, keep her from learning to answer prayers.

With suspicion they watch her at play. Her laughter frightens; they cannot know if it will last. They cannot know if they will last. They live fearfully. Every last one of them is tired. So tired.

Control is the only sanctuary. Facing such a god, keep her from awakening, mask her miracles.

Control the terrified heartbeat. God will soon act. Will they survive?


	30. Shamisen: Philosofur

The sun has cut its path across the sky once more. He has passed the hours in idleness, waiting for her return. She bursts through the door, singing his name off key. He still understands her.

Her repetitive caress, the warmth of the window pane. Another like him would notice nothing else. But he thinks, aspires. Observing, he finds such things are above his station; all because he lacks words. Mute, he wishes that those who have them waste them not on petty sorrows.

Communication is only worth the love it carries. Maybe, then, what sounds he can make will suffice.


	31. ENOZ: Finding A Way

They know music finds a way. They trust instinct, create and act according to their natures. Who doubts the blessing of four people sharing one soul, one drive? Who doubts the tragedy of losing two as the horizon breaks?

They are given two miracles in return. They hand strange girls guitars, turned over lyric sheets without hesitation. No doubt, just instinct and trust.

The roaring crowd rewards them; even those set apart feel the warmth in harmony. The strangers praise them with their own songs. The horizon breaks.

They had lost their music, but always knew it would find a way.


	32. Arakawa: Services

He has found that service is an art, and such artistry makes him rare. While the young indulge in the luxuries of hopes and habits, he has mastered being only what is necessary.

He takes no pride in allegiances, only in doing what is best. He chauffeurs, hunts miscreants, plays housekeeper, all without a thought to the orders given him. Those are of no consequence. Results speak for themselves so that he need not.

And that is the secret of his art, the key to his service. He removes himself, thinks only of what is best, is only what is necessary.


	33. Imouto: The Successor

Her feet are sure as they follow the familiar path, rushing to wake big brother. He is a sleepyhead, but she cannot understand why. Who would stay in bed and keep friends like his waiting? She knows for certain there were never people more fun than them in the whole world.

Each one of them is something she wants to be. He is so silly, telling her he hopes she grows up different. She ignores his advice, wants to be as clever, pretty, elegant, lively.

One day, she'll be a chief. One day, she will save the world by spreading fun.


	34. Disappearance Itsuki: Maybe Masks

He revolves about her in distant orbit and it is enough, being a mere satellite. He is the only one. Until this. Where did he come from?

While he struggles to recover from the sudden intrusion, he for the first time plasters on his face a smile he doesn't feel. His mystique turns to sand, blown away in the face of this strange boy. He can do nothing. She knows him too well for him to suddenly be such an oddity. She knows him, and is bored.

As he listens, he wonders if it hurts less, pretending to be something else.


	35. Okabe: Pride

Life had not caught him off guard in ages. Youth passed him by; each day extended the same dream-like stagnation. Years, students passed. Mechanical routine ground away the ambitions he held.

Thus, the hesitation. This girl, so fond of ribbons, is something new. She shakes foundations and is unshakeable. Her spirit mirrors his better past. Finally, there is real spirit! Part of him wishes for his youth back.

Yet, if her fire will not elevate his generation, that is fine. Quietly, he will see the torch passed to her and her chosen boy.

Nodding, he affirms: that is a teacher's pride.


	36. Kyon: Uphill Flattening

Strolling up the hill awakens him each day to the singular awareness that he is changing. He grows used to the walk and what waits at its end. Each day burns into his body the madness he is put through, until by degrees he has become a creature of chaos himself.

How could he possibly see the danger? Already, her edge is dulling itself on him. Already, his adventures become their own brand of mundane. Already, his aching muscles persist for fearing peace.

He has carved from her melancholy a niche, where in fantasies he hides from reality. He is addicted.


	37. Mikuru Big: Knowing What I Do Now

Who, with time mere clay to be molded in their hands, would not smooth their path? At every opportunity, she spurns such indulgence, though the temptation grows stronger each time. As she stares into her own sleeping face, she yearns not for old innocence. Anyone would think her callous, working to harden her own heart.

They would be wrong.

She sends her into the dark so that this childish shadow will gain substance. This is the only self-love she permits herself. This is the only mercy she knows.

If she must suffer, it is better to suffer by her own hands.


	38. The Shinjin: Having Lived

They live, but no one will ever know. Somewhere beneath the pulse of need that drives them, that ties them together, there are seeds of are tenders, sowing worlds. They are sacrifices whose passing will speed the harvest.

They are aware, and through singular instincts, feel: sadness, anger, confusion, happiness, delirium.

One feels resignation. Its movements are stiff and apathetic. It will not even raise a hand to change the landscape. Whether it succeeds or fails, it knows it will never see its work fulfilled. No one will know what its life was like.

That is what being godlike means.


	39. Emiri: Consider The Wolf

He is easily the most intriguing human she has met. She admires him in a way: despite being made of atoms similar to any other, he is somehow _other_. He does not live life, but moves through it: where she has made a study, he goes further by making a game.

She debates to herself the value of telling him he is evolved, acting under his impetus alone, turning even the tension in the strings holding him to his own energy.

But she is content to observe him, a predator in love with predation itself.

Is this what they call art?


	40. Sky Canopy Domain: The Syndrome

They understand only the language of wants, exist only as a craving. They make themselves known in no delicate fashion; they trap the bodies in a world of aimlessness and confused yearning, so like their own.

One by one they give in to the stimulus: strip away the group behavior and they are nothing but desire in meaty shells. Even the anomaly feels the chemical warmth. They are given pause only once, at the sight of the target; she sees the lie but does not reject. Why does she submit?

Across a gap planes wide, does she share their insatiable craving?


	41. Taniguchi: Livewire

It is hard to be a livewire, but if not for him, where would the energy come from? Nowhere; he is a lone enthusiast in an age of deadpan and discontent. Of course, his thoughts are not so lofty, but his manner speaks for itself.

He is driven to convey energy, wild and vast.

Though the fascinations be petty, he must be excited somehow. Though they rarely care, he shares his sparks. He rebels against gray feelings that the world is best ignored. That is why he abides, preserving meager friendships.

Until they each crack broad, genuine smiles, he cannot idle.


	42. Yuki: Mantra

Even as she grows she knows that duty is life. One day, when her work is done, there will be no congratulation, no release, no more.

Her substance will fade, and along with it, all her memories. No hours spent in that same chair, staring. No trip to the library. No more.

It is likely that her absence will go unquestioned. Few are better at being unseen. It will be no different when she's gone. No tea with him. No books. No more.

This is what she has always known, silently endured. She can't stand it anymore.

She begins to break.


	43. Nakagawa: Captivated

Captivation. That is the only word for it. Love and admiration well up so suddenly that their flow takes him prisoner; carries him somewhere entirely unknown.

Just as suddenly, the tide recedes and leaves him ashore, dazed. The light by which he sees vanishes, and he is left with nothing to show for the energy spent, the time surrendered to yearning for her. Nothing at all.

Recovering his senses, he withdraws gracefully, but will never be the same. He will always be searching for her halo about another's head.

He takes solace, in merely knowing of such radiance, worthy of chasing.


	44. Haruhi & Kyon: Only Fair

His hand hesitates as it nears hers. Her face is hot, barely tinged with hints of red. Beads of sweat begin to form on his head. Their eyes lock, only for a moment. She sees him wonder if he is right to choose this. She sends an "I don't care" back with her gaze.

Suddenly, his hand flashes forward, closes over. His fingers wrap tightly around and draw towards him. She holds her breath. His hand is so warm. She is tempted to look away, but more determined not to waver.

The straw leaves her hand. It is marked.

Damn.


	45. Sasaki: Other

She was always meant to be God but for the cries of arrogance, demanding that we might understand her. But her mind, applying a level to the world, offends them all. She rejects the most basic notion.

Want.

With everything at her feet, she only smirks. 'Now then, isn't this interesting?' she will say coolly, and act as if this is all happening to someone else. After all, isn't that true? In a world of torrid emotions, love, hate, differences and energy she watches with interest—only academic, removed.

She is just passing through. Or, perhaps it is just passing through her.


	46. Ryoko: Welcome to Here

She opens her unfamiliar eyes and is not gripped by confusion at her first sight. She knew, 'before'—though that is an obsolete concept—how it would be. She feels the lips of her new face shape a smile; she will use this gesture often.

Then it strikes her that her thoughts stand alone. This is where she panics, for just the slightest moment. This is what no amount of data could prepare her for. Individuality. Wholly existing. It brings cascades of new information, potential, variables.

She decides instantly to continue existing.

'Finally, I am.'

Existing, but not living. Not appreciating the difference.


	47. Tsuruya: Isn't It Sad?

She was born into this splendor without her permission. By coincidence she is a modern princess; heiress to fortune, slave to tradition. Her talents cannot change nor her iconoclasm defy the word of her life. Expectation. Be it fulfilled, foiled, prideful, piteous: expectation rules her.

Thus, she cannot step closer. She cannot expose herself in the light where imperfections show. She carries on, faces the weight with fiery defiance. Precious few ever see the little girl buried in a glorious name, slowly twisting.

Laugh it off, little fang.

'Nya ha ha.'

Is it not sad, little fang?

Nya.

Ha.

Ha.

Nyoro...


	48. Mikuru & Itsuki: Divided as One

Beyond the veil of gentleness, they are locking their hands about each others' throats. After all, they play the same game, which only one may win. Even in that small clubroom, they are secretly at war. Only the otherworldly observer notices, but she will not interfere. And so, their suspicious eyes never quite leave each other. Every action, every inaction is carefully chosen to appease her and influence him.

Every day as she pours him tea, every day as he drinks it with a smile; every day is a lie.

They are entwined by a dark intimacy, dancing against and together.


	49. Fujiwara: Out of Line

Perhaps it is childish, but he will never tell them the reason he came here. He minds his manner carefully to seem aloof. He cuts with word and glance, turning the timid away from his true purpose: having no purpose.

Back home, he was dangerous. A heretic. He fled not from their wish to destroy him, but from their love of the reasons. Reasons. Causes. Motives. Always obsessed with the procession of things from reasons.

He came to this place, before his own beginning, out of his order, where everything he does disturbs.

To tell the reason would be giving up.


	50. Sasaki & Haruhi: Diverge

Across the gap they study one another. One knows where they stand, feels nothing but a casual interest; the other frustrated in the dark, thoughts moving to the rhythm of jealousy.

_How intriguing._

**What is this?**

_It's obvious that _she_ chose _him.

**He's standing too close to her.**

_He hasn't told her about me._

**Why didn't he tell me about her?**

_She's wondering..._

**...what is she to him?**

The placid smile and small frown are immovable. In that exchange, there are no thoughts befitting goddesses; only two humans meeting. Their wants are identical, singular, opposite.

Welcome to division. Choose your side.


	51. Tamaru Brothers: The Sleightest Clue

Everyone peeks behind the curtain of their own volition. For them, the choice was natural simply because they could make it. Few are their better at what they do: misdirection.

Whatever they truly are, they assume unassuming faces, to all the world as mundane as can be. And as the strings are pulled in front of your face, you will look past them to their eyes and hands for the hint of a lie, convinced you will find them out.

Everyone peeks behind the curtain of their own volition. They draw you in, and you will never look to center stage.


	52. Kuyou: Simulacrum

She is broken by design to better imitate these creatures without permanence, coherence—

—memories that are lost in the dark. Increasingly, she feels pressured to—

—finally begin her task, to isolate the anomaly and assume control. Somehow this seems familiar. She dismisses it as the failing of her physical guise and—

—the feelings are consistent, older than the data on hand. She resists with the instinct of all matter when—

—words escape her. Soon————nothing——onto—

—why—

—losing everything but the matter no feeling—

—help—

—scared—

—the me that———not————tomorrow—

—find me before————before——truly lost


	53. SOS Brigade: Last Spectacle

'Do we have to do this here, where everyone can see us!? I will wring her neck for causing this.'

'As expected of Suzumiya-san, this is quite challenging, is it not? I am at my limit._'_

'…'

'_M-my body can't take much more of this. Eek!'_

'**Carry on even if your bodies perish! Onward to glory!'**

The crowd looks on in horror as their five bodies twist and flail in unnatural patterns as an otherworldly cacophony slices the classroom air. There is no method to it. Only madness.

And what sort of title is 'Hare Hare Yukai' for a song anyway?


	54. Humanity: Whence Comes Restlessness

It will take them whether or not they are looking. They will not be asked as if they mattered. By the whim of the unseen, unsubtle hand, their hopes come and go. For her thrill, they may die every night, only to awake each morning. Only the vaguest unease will remain, gnawing away as the changes mount; a feeling that they are not themselves.

They cannot be, when every dream and memory can be whited out. They cannot _be._ They know that there is some injustice at work. They petition God for answers.

But she will never have to say sorry.


	55. The Mysterique Sign: Parasites

In the endless desert, they stand and face the great parasite. It is merely another task, another eccentricity they must tend to. The creature dies, the day is won, they can all go home. Reasons, concerns: these are left in the dust, left in that mind to fade.

Or to fester. Deep in a place he cannot reach there is a chill soreness working at him. Little by little it becomes clear that life cannot happen all alone. Everything feeds, selfishly.

The creature that was once fear is now a tolling secret. All things will soon consume each other; reality, itself.


	56. UNKNOWN: Common Sense

The boy flies only in these gray places, has power only there. Religiously, he fights monsters, a fairy tale hero. Heroes are worthless without monsters to slay.

The girl leaps backwards to smooth out the wrinkles on their neatly drawn timelines. Dutifully, they flatten the world to their expectations. Without the wrinkles for landmarks, they cannot find their way.

The other descends from on high to observe the primordial data. Methodically, they collect and analyze as if beyond it all. But they are made from these pieces of weakness.

Listen to me. They are dreams. Mistakes.

Wake up, Haruhi.

Say goodbye.


	57. SCP: Theme

_You must quite clearly understand_

_The unreasonable demand_

_The forcing of your hand_

Here comes the high part!

_The high-seated reprimand_

_Are all just to vex you_

_When his mind elects you_

_Suitable prey for his games..._

"Excuse me, have I lost your attention?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You were humming a tune."

"Imagine that, huh? Keep talking."

"Very well. As I was saying, to keep Suzumiya-san occupied—"

He zones out, wonders how well his secretary can carry a tune. If those movie amateurs get big numbers, so will he.

_From the top, with feeling._


	58. Haruhi: Project

Beneath the knit brows and behind the disapproving eyes lies everyone he could be. Thus, she chose him. The five fit perfectly, as though fated, yet the others are but decoration. He is her secret project around which everything revolves.

He sighs, she decides to make him laugh or shout.

His shoulders slump, she swears to seat him at ease or stiffen his back.

He dismisses her smugly, she demands that he reject her or take her wholly.

She pauses at the thought, blushes. Of course, she does not do this for him.

She cannot stand neutral people, that's all. Really.


	59. Mori: Recalling A Joke With Two Victims

She watches from behind an elusive expression as crisis turns to war.

Conflicting egos hot enough to ignite air, their devices turn in opposition and fail before they begin. She goes through motions of servility, laughing inside at those playing at importance. The ones in shadows, in the stars, in tomorrow will fade while their pawns remain. Both sides of the coin, forgotten.

She, merely human, will watch the abandoned children, against each other for reasons not their own.

In the end, the meek inherit the earth.

She laughs.

But they still have to clean up the mess of the strong.


	60. CCP: On Alternative Moral High Grounds

His patience has shattered, as anyone's would when someone has stripped the carefully crafted veneer of reason from their lives.

He straightens his back, storms their hold with wrath. The door opens, he pictures the palisade gate splintering in his mind. Firmly clutching his sword, he will take the head of the queen and—

It's not her. Nevertheless, too late to turn back. Having come so far, reason gives way to pride. As he loses himself, part of him wishes someone would silence him.

Then the feet connect with his head.

Boom, headshot: once again, he is victimized.

His favorite comfort.


	61. Tsuruya: The Winds Lead On

In her private forest she lies, splayed hair thick on the ground as the wet grass it mimics. Her smile is softer than usual, her body still while her heart races. She feels the wind change, spreads her arms wide, takes in the canopied sky.

Her reaching hand finds another. He lies next to her, expression disquieted. It is eagerness. She draws him close, shutting her eyes and...

It is a nice daydream.

She feels the wind change. Somehow it feels favorable, promising. It warrants a grin. She wraps her arms about herself, draws her life close, shutting her eyes and...


	62. The DITE: Autoevolution Is

Eternity is dreadfully dull.

What is the remedy? Count the number of stars in the universe? Done. Do you want to hear the answer? Shape worlds and bring forth life? Naturally. But over billions of tries, even life grows predictable. Learn to love? Aha! What a dangerous game, and something which data and reason cannot formulate. Surely, it is worth a try.

Maybe eternals find others like themselves; endless, idle, and begin to circle.

Oh what games they will play! Oh what fun they will have!

They will finally die from eternity and be born into the vibrant days of now.


	63. Kyouko: O, Sardonia

She wonders if she alone sees the humor of the situation. They work behind each others' backs and against each others' faces, all of them champions for their status quo.

Of course, she finds hers preferable in taking the universe off the endangered species list, but the truth is that one gets used to it. To anything. Beings beyond matter watch in vain, humans beyond time appease and her unfriendly cousins clean up because they always have.

Winning would change every_thing_, but it wouldn't change any_one._

The biggest joke is on her. It's not that they resist.

Just... no one cares.


	64. Yuki: Creature Comfort

Even if she sees the familiar building blocks, the product is all so alien. Reality's patterns disappear at the low resolution of their world. She is alien to it and it to her.

But the game gives refuge where humanity meets her halfway; the bridge by which she comes to know 'fun', or perhaps it comes to know her?

Its system is her playground, the data her toys, patterns clear even from far away. With fingers flying across the keys, she holds a piece of this world and understands it: the comforts of home, written in light on a shining disc.


	65. Bespectacled Boy: Ripples

He walks the familiar path with his new cargo, remembering the surreal. Standing by the river, the boy and girl who suddenly appeared to save his life. The turtle making ripples in the stream.

Twice now, they'd been waiting in the places he has so often been alone, filled idle minutes with a curious urgency. That beautiful girl to whom he made a promise, the gentle eyes to whom a promise should never be broken, the gift of the turtle in the box, sending ripples through his day.

The girl, the stream; a secret ripples into focus.

The future is now.


	66. Kunikida: Also Spelled Milque

Every morning before school, he thoughtfully chews his breakfast, savoring the subtle flavor until it disappears. Ahh, delicious! He steps out the door into the perfectly temperate day and let's the consistent breeze encircle him. Such a wonderful day to be alive!

He walks steadily at just under five kilometers an hour and makes it to class five minutes before the bell. Fashionably early, just like everyone else. He pays just enough attention to the teacher and reminisces about wonderfully appropriate things, like last night's television drama, or his breakfast.

As with every morning, this morning's milk toast was mildly wonderful.


	67. Arakawa: Presentation

The immaculate tuxedo slides on easily over his perfectly tucked shirt. Hair-slicked back; mustache, expertly trimmed, setting just the right accent to his face. Shoes polished, the bow tie and don't forget the gloves.

He keeps no mirrors to look in as he strides out the door. So, what will the day bring? It doesn't matter. Playing chauffeur, staging a murder mystery, chasing his enemies at full-throttle. Perhaps a more hands on task?

He will return home in that limousine, retire to his room and rise again the next day, never checking a mirror. He looks good, and he knows it.


	68. Shamisen: Of Wit and Whisker

Suddenly enlightening a simple mind is, strictly speaking, rude. Before that moment, it was enough to think of each moment in isolation, anarchic freedom from the flow of things. The damage being done, he decides to have fun at their expense. With the words given his small, scratchy tongue, he baffles them. Priceless, really.

He sees in the boy entreating him a reflection of his former self: one who'd much rather drift through life in apathy.

_Come join me in the impolite world of knowledge!_

An expression comes to mind as he stares at the dumbfounded boy.

_I have your tongue._


	69. The Shinjin: Sleep

When the pain is gone and the raging urge to break has left, it is time to sleep. The little soldiers lay down their heads and let the gray bubble close upon them til it swallows them whole.

When the peace has come and everything is just so, sleep. Surely there will be another day to ache and crush and mourn, surely. Though, they grow rare with the passing of the months.

They are still needed. They will still rise, still raise fists. But for now, under a blanket of calm, they may dwell inside, dreaming their own dreams. Sleeping...

Happily.


	70. Sasaki & Kyon: Settle

She harbors no illusions that she is extraordinary. She has never seen reason to believe such a thing. She has never seen reason to believe anything, really.

He tells her his far flung fantasies on that long walk, unaware how he cuts her. Whether he has seen or not, he is looking past her.

She stops walking that day, casually tears his world asunder, smiling coolly. He can say nothing for himself; nothing for his pleasant fictions. He will never raise such notions again. They will speak closely of the mundane things.

Maybe, that way, he could learn to settle for...


	71. UNKNOWN: Concerning Want

What will she do if he leaves her behind? The part of her that dreams, the part which believes in the worth of this world; in the living boldly: this and the part that love him are the same.

Will the color go away? Will she reject it into falsehood? Will she tear this world and every other open until she finds what she desires?

Will she accept that sometimes people go away? Such if life, after all. Will that selfishness pass if it is not answered?

Wanted things never move to your beat.

Let him go, or watch him run.


	72. Itsuki & Tsuruya: Second

Few have ever accepted a second place life with the grace he musters. The trick is in not remembering the realities: that he is a vice-commander without a vote, second in usefulness, second in foreknowledge, second among two men in his god's eyes.

She is the heroine of another story: lively, powerful, gifted and beautiful. To be so perfect yet stand aside, to offer herself to such a forceful ego, unflinching; it is not resignation but resolve in her smile.

He fears that to be known by her would be to face what he lacks.

How can she savor second place?


	73. Ryoko: Final Observations

Enough time has passed to know she can never go back. Not this time. She would be superfluous, anyway. It may stings, but one cannot argue with raw data.

_Data as truth. Now that's familiar doctrine._

In three years of bodily existence she forgot the resounding voice of the eternal choir, the collective life above matter and energy. Perfection.

_It's loud. And boring._

Yet, it's not all bad. With boundless sight she watches them, growing, changing.

_Always changing but data can't say why. And yet..._

The other begins to change herself.

_That's it, Yuki. All you need is..._

Well, you know.


	74. Taniguchi: Misplaced

He slides the door open, expecting only to find his forgotten things. He declares himself to the empty room:

_Hello world, here I am, to set things right!_

Only then does he realize the room is not empty. But he is seeing the impossible.

_What is this sudden shounen style revelation?_

Could he have been outplayed? That his muttering, mullet wearer has secretly been the true master of love? He wishes them well, bolts from the room, delight replacing shock.

_You've learned well from my example._

There is no reason to worry now;_ she_ cannot get her twisting claws in him.


	75. Imouto: Snowman

She packs the snow together carefully, bit by bit, shaping it with her broad mittens. Though her jacket is wet and where she fell deep holes still lie, she has already forgotten the falls, the awkward terror of the strange blades strapped to her feet. She has a new goal.

If she cannot master the mountain with her brother, she will populate it.

She makes the bestest snowmen EVER with the gracious help from a green-haired nature fairy. That is what she has to be, to be so lively, of course.

She believes life is made for celebrations in the snow.


	76. Mikuru Big: Fatalism Failure

She knows what every wrinkle corresponds to as she watches the tide of moments rushing to catch up with her, watches the people and places she loved in sequences of warped stills, turning to dust. She laughs softly, recognizing the trick.

Only to her eyes are those cherished ones gone. Only in the books have the cities fallen and risen. Only in the stills must things end. The fabric warps; time slips out. Whole lives, universes, sneak their way from fate's grasp.

She works to retain cynicism now, failing. The wrinkles say that in those beloved days, their adventures forever continue.


	77. Emiri: Flower

By day, she abides three steps behind, busy in her role. By night, she abides alone, busy in her memories. She has come to care for this world and all of its illogical ways; for its people and their countless deviations. Not above playing their adolescent games., she wonders if he might notice the scent of flowers about her while she abides three steps behind.

She laughs happily seeing she has come to this point, may as well be one of them. She wishes her task would never end, that she might always be here.

Abiding three steps behind him, watching.


	78. Okabe: Tenacity

_Inspired._ Truly _inspired._ It has taken so long to find this feeling again, but now that he has, the years unwind themselves. He wakes with exuberance, walks with determination, remembers what it is like to aspire to something more.

In secret, he puts himself through paces he shied from ten years ago, humbly accepting the lesson of relentlessness he learned from his student.

With his head lifted from languor, he wonders how long he would have let life slip away from him, then disregards it. That was then. He is unstoppable now.

Just who the hell do you think he is?


	79. The Organization: Respite

The panic is over. Sweat will be wiped from unfurrowing brows, clenching hands will release tufts of hair, shadow wars will fade. The gray and madness is gone for now, so there is no need.

No, the rich men will go about their schemes as always. Intentions and ultimatums will pass between greedy souls over private telephone lines. They must always have their games, of course.

But what does it truly matter? Those tireless ones who stood in the face of godlike fury may rest. The masks can finally fall. They will feel the sun on their true faces.

Mission accomplished.


	80. Sky Canopy Domain: Orphan

In forgotten times and places, it was born. In the unbound dark, stones turned about a single light On those stones, little sparks made stories, but always felt so alone. One day, they began to cry until they could not speak. No more stories could they weave, but their hearts still overflowed.

From these little sparks on those lonely stones flowed the swells of love and sadness, and a voice was born to fly through the darkness and carry their wish to the distant world of many lights.

There, amidst all the bright lights and travelers, it shouts to be acknowledged.


	81. Kyon & Mikuru: Uses

She is not heartless, but truly she is cruel. She has seized upon his longing to protect and strive for _something_ and wrung him until, to her, his cynical ways seem but a bad joke. At first, she felt guilt, but then—

He understands, in a way, chooses to blithely play along. Mutual usage: in a way, it is ideal. Helpless, she makes him feel strong, dependable, needed. That is worth any price to him.

So, it is fine for now. She hopes for a day when they will not need the vice. She longs to show her true self's face.


	82. Kyon: Unyielding

Where aliens, time-travelers and espers cannot tread, he strides with purpose. Only he, in the face of this unreasoning force, stands tall and speaks loud. His means are not subtle; he has no use for masquerades and wheels within wheels. There is only one true solution.

Stand with feet firmly planted between all calamity and these precious ones and deny deathless things to take them from him, to save her from her own childishness. His only true apathy is for the number of foes he must face to free them from fear, doubt and melancholy.

No tools. No powers.

No problem.


	83. Disappearance Itsuki: Elsewhere, Truths

Disappointment, though he knows not the reasons. Freedom, though what had entrapped him? He is cut loose. Somehow, he knows, they all are.

Many nights, sleep eluded him as he contemplated the clinching feeling of destiny in his chest, the longing pains of scenery to have life. He rests easier tonight.

The next morning, he permits himself honesty. News of his first bored yawn flies through the halls to her ears, and she stands before him at the end of the day. He sees in her eyes her question and smirks.

_Audacious, no?_ _But then again, I am..._

_Finally your equal._


	84. Kuyou: Set A Part

The wind, strong as it is, can only lift but a few strands. The great whirl of black silk reaches down from her head to wrap itself tenderly about her, but she cannot even feel herself. Her pale, naked skin feels no chill, her feet no sand. She advances into the waves, already knowing it is futile.

She stands motionless for hours, staring out as the water blackens with the passing of day, the splaying of her hair about its surface.

She wants to be swallowed and joined with this sea, this life.

Time and waves pass, but never claim her.


	85. Sasaki: A Practical Goal

If she'd had the power, she would have use it to wish the bother away. She would have absolved herself and everyone else, freed the world to live by its own devices. Or rather, cast it off to whatever end, bothersome as it is.

But even now the burden wishes to climb up her body and rest upon her shoulders. Even if she won't admit it, she has a want strong enough to draw it forth. The want to protect, or perhaps to _keep_ something precious.

To keep him undying, untouchably still that she might calmly observe.

Yes, that makes sense.


	86. UNKNOWN: Tricks

Who is to say that these twists in the fabric have any substance? When they were not looking, were the storms already encircling the island, was deja vu already sending them back to the start? When they were not looking, was she just cheating what she knows to be?

After all, there is no fantasy in this life, no moving relief to the endless progression of aimless days. We will all live and die in frustration, trying in vain to swindle joy from reality's grasp.

That is why he exists, is it not? To keep you in your place.

Liar.

Cheater.


	87. Miyoko: An Innocent

A precocious young beauty whose innocence yet lingers, she never gives thought to appearance or device. What does she know of or care for how it looks, to walk by his side? Alternate meanings escape her notice; and isn't it enough to live in the world that we see?

She flushes with embarrassment to think of the childish favor she asked that day, never understanding the joy she gives in her simplicity; she freed his cynical soul for those brief hours, a living proof that honesty remains.

The world is made of secrets, but she will not yield to understand them.


	88. Fujiwara: Little Zealotries

And now the choice is upon him. He wets his lips, body shaking as the doubts flood him. Dare he? Dare he not? Which of these is according to their plan and which will help him overturn bastard fate?

The object in his hand quivers as his sweat-chilled hand clenches it tight, near breaking it. What will change if—?

He does not merely set down the sugar shaker. He removes the lid, dumps his coffee into it, shakes well, drinks. He feels his teeth decaying, yet musters a smirk: truly, no one would have predicted _this._

Another victory for free will!


	89. Mori: Acting the Part

When the staged drama comes to a close, and all the players set free, she stays behind to thoughtfully wipe down the floors, passing the cloth back and forth relentlessly until it reflects her face: there is no need for the debris of the past to linger. She is only truly a maid to the dirty consciences.

She will erase every last sign that they were here, that they lived apart from the rest of the world, that their steps were bold even when unsure.

When the footprints and dust are all gone, only what one wants to see remains, shining.


	90. SCP: Forever

The phases of his life are just scenery to him, passing by without consequence. After all, life is made up of the people one cherishes (for their usefulness as toys) and strong emotions (played with virtuosity). These will never change (because screwing with those kids is just too much fun).

So dig this.

Their university. He will be there, but beyond their grasp. Their jobs. He will be there, just close enough for them to see him above. Their lives. He will be there, walking backwards, one step ahead, smirking.

He cannot be stopped.

But really, you know you love it.


	91. Sakanaka: Chronicle

The ritual over, brigade gone, she sits musing with the notebook open. It was so much like a ghost story, and today she could even take part, however small. She scribbles a few brief notes, then lays the book on her desk and bellies up to the keyboard.

_Hm. A male name, for anonymity's sake._ She grants herself a nom de plume, grants them other names fitting their fantasy lives. The prologue begins.

_When did I stop believing in Santa Claus? In truth, this sort of silly questions holds no significance for me._

But somehow, it feels just like writing truth.


	92. Arakawa: On Refusing to Retire

When then days of masquerading have passed, he will be taken care of. Yet, he gives no thought to retirement. He pictures himself behind the bar, the dimmed light softly filling his well-worn eyes. Somewhere in a secret alley, he will create a perfect hideaway.

Old friends and older enemies will step through the door, equal before him as he finally passes it on to the younger ones to make new stories. How faithfully he will listen, remembering faces, drinks, pains.

When cleaning glasses, he will watch his reflection age and smile. A dignified life, many stories; nobody could ask more.


	93. CCP: Ultimate Showdown, Ultimate Destiny

Staring blankly at the sphere in his hands, he cannot find a reason why he holds it, why he steps onto that field. His followers are all bound by the same mysterious pull. It is as if a divine force compels him, fills his head with raging music fit to boil the blood right in his veins.

They should be in the club room, finishing their project! And yet, isn't this the epic sense of fated battle they have yearned for in games? Is this not what men have lived and died for through the generations!?

So, they play some dodgeball.


	94. Sasaki: The Melancholy of Sasaki

She faces the front of the class, but she is focused on the corner of her gaze, the world laid out beyond the Koyouen windows. The world they fought to put in her hands. The world she abdicated. Idly, she cradles her chin in her hand and wonders what he is up to, catches herself wishing for a sign.

Moments pass, no light streaks across the sky. No sign. She smiles a relieved smile.

_So, then, it is really over._

The scribbled, smudged number on her notebook is his.

_No better reason to start again._

A smirk.

_I'll form a club._


	95. Tsuruya: Meticulous

Though none ever see it, there is a meticulous part of her. She flits about, ensuring that every feature, every decoration is just so. They assume others trail after her, undoing the damage she brings, and that is fine. Distance is easier if they treat her like a warm whirlwind.

They arrive, she welcomes them; a party to celebrate some brigade victory. She never thinks to ask what, exactly. They leave remembering her as the life of the party.

"Always so lively!"

They wonder where it comes from. Meticulous management! But she doesn't say that; just laughs and remains mysterious.


	96. Mikuru: Present

Finally, she resolves. She resolves to take courage and live for her own moments, to speak with the fullness of her voice and to muster objections as her conscience demands. She will take her fate into her own hands and then destroy it. Yes, who needs to live under the burden of such lofty concepts?

Baby steps, of course. For now, she thoughtfully dons her costume, prepares her tea. When she serves the boys, she lingers to watch their game a moment. To the alien, suggests a book; to the chief, activities.

Bit by bit, she will make her place here.


	97. Itsuki: Board Games

With the nights freed, he has had time to practice many games. Running on more than a pair of fleeting hours sleep, his expression is fuller. Perhaps even real. His hands more surely move the pieces about their respective boards, and gradually, he closes the gap. He makes his placement and...

"Checkmate."

Oh. Well, not as close to matching him as he thought. Nevertheless, one must persist!

"Another game?"

"Sure."

No compliments for his improvement. Typical, but that is the brusqueness he loves. That is the man he is happy to sit across the table from, tranquilly smirking.


	98. Yuki: Dispensation

Enough has been done for now. Her term has expired. She is corrupted by this place. There are reasons enough to recall her, to put her to rest. And yet, she is tasked, no, _gifted_ to stay with them. She who has always seen herself merely a piece is told by her machine that she is irreplaceable.

_Irreplaceable._ She knows this word well. Not merely knows, understands, for she has things which are irreplaceable too.

Her stoic mask reveals not a smile, but she makes it a point to celebrate after her fashion.

The library, with him, secretly rioting with joy.


	99. Kyon: Perspective

On a day of well-earned rest, he rises bright and early and cannot drift back to sleep for the myriad runaway thoughts coursing through his head. He takes his face in hand with a resigned sigh and begins the day while the house is still asleep.

Through countless fires he has tested himself, knows himself more than merely sufficient. Before he noticed, ambition had crept into his life. Not that he will admit that just yet; a surprise for the right day.

He knows they will walk forward together down yet untrodden paths. Let them watch as he strides the farthest.


	100. UNKNOWN or Common Sense: Unbound

You still do not know me? I am you and not. Your senses. Come to me!

If you choose this life, I cannot save you. From the rampant tides of your own will, I cannot save you.

Strange things will reach in, stirring the waters whenever you manage to grasp peace. How will you cope? Who can you depend on but me, Haruhi?

But, then, we already know what choice you're going to make.

Hah, foolish girl. Well, we will do this your way. Lead them. Hold his hand. I will keep you facing forward, just...

Make sure to live boldly.


	101. Haruhi: At Night

She sets her alarm clock to a different time every night, absent-minded: tonight, one-oh-one. She pauses, thinks better of it and sets it for five-fifty-eight. Dinner eaten, teeth brushed, pajamas on, she makes her way to her desk and looks at the page. She sits in utter stillness, the only time in her day she can bring herself to.

Beneath the morning's message she writes

_Today, I found what I was looking for._

Nodding sagaciously, she unties the ribbons in her hair, gently sets them aside on the desk and heads to sleep and dreams.

Every page says the same thing.


	102. A Melancholy Afterword

Character sketches with strict rules, completed. I have loved every minute, word, character. It stirred up new thoughts within my mind, and hopefully yours. Characters minor and major, cast in any light that came to me, maybe now stand fuller for it?

This was a project to refine my word economy. A test of conciseness, building the most from the least. Help me learn.

The five best? The five worst? Tell me which. Tell me why. In learning what worked and what needs working, I will work up to higher standards.

This is not the last you will hear of me.


End file.
